


The Fold

by albawrites



Series: On the Way to Piltover [2]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:32:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albawrites/pseuds/albawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twisted Fate debates how ready he is to step into this. The past is greedy, and he isn't ready to fold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fold

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: Mature. Explicit sex is involved.  
> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement and the fact that I wasn't satisfied with the lack of stories with these two. Their adventure continues here.

Twisted Fate opens his eyes, swallowing hard against his dry throat. He stares up at the ceiling of the inn room he's renting and he lays a moment. Slowly, he breathes in through his nose and out his mouth before his eyes flicker to the Ionian painting on the wall next to him. The familiarizing of his environment helps somewhat. It doesn't hurt that Graves is in the bed near him, sleeping like a damned rock, snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

"Nice to know that ain't changed," he mutters to himself, cracking a grin.

He sits up and stretches before he leans forward into a sitting position on his bed. In terms of the sex, there isn't any regret lingering in him. Maybe it was played a little bit too close, but Graves had been the one who demanded it, impulsive and following his instincts as ever. Little was said afterward, which was fine and about what he expected. Twisted Fate isn't entirely sure if it changes anything between them, and he's prepared either way it goes. For now, it's probably best not to give it much consideration. Graves wears his heart on his sleeve and isn't capable of being subtle; he'll say what he thinks, one way or another. Until then, it's better to wait it out and let him decide what to make of this.

The thief rises out of bed finally and finds his clothing. Thankfully, service didn't come until _after_ they were done fooling around, and he's relieved to feel his shirt doesn't stink like Bilgewater anymore or feel sticky and gritty at the same time thanks to his dive into the ocean. Not a thing he hopes to repeat anytime soon.

In the middle of buttoning his shirt, he pauses as he listens to Graves behind him. At first it just sounds like he's uncomfortable, grunting, like a fly is bugging him. But it starts to sound distressed.

Sounds like hell of a nightmare. Twisted Fate isn't entirely surprised, but his heart sinks a little; how much of the Locker still follows Graves, he wonders.

Too much, maybe.

"Graves," Twisted Fate says, touching his partner's arm. When he doesn't respond, the thief gives a sharp swat to his arm. "Malcolm!"

The gunman's eyes shoot wide open and Twisted Fate sees a familiar look: fierce rage, the kind that he could never talk him down from. Graves reacts with a snarl, grabbing Twisted Fate by the neck and pins him down onto the bed.

It's definitely not alluring. Not when Graves is squeezing his neck hard enough to force the air out and keep him from breathing, strangling him.

"You son of a bitch!" Graves roars.

Twisted Fate chokes, trying uselessly to pry the other man's hands off his throat. It's pointless. Graves is much stronger than him, and nothing short of a damned crowbar could peel him off. He tries to gulp for air, sputtering out, "Mal--"

For a moment, he doesn't know if Graves is going to stop and he doesn't have a way _to_ stop him. Thankfully, the man eventually comes to his senses; his hands jerk away and he looks startled. Twisted Fate coughs and gasps, hungry for air. It's a moment before he's able to get any at all; eventually, he's slowly panting, trying to concentrate on just breathing.

He can sense Graves' hesitation, unsure if he should do or say anything. 

"S'okay," Twisted Fate says roughly, despite the fact that his partner had just attempted to choke the air out of him. He touches his neck with a wince. That is definitely going to bruise. Graves didn't hold back a bit in that moment.

He can hear Graves step away, only to return and silently hold out something to the swindler. Twisted Fate finally looks up at him and takes the glass of water, but he's distracted by the puzzled and guilty look in Graves' eyes. None of that had been expected by him either. 

"Got a lot going on," Twisted Fate says, and it's not a question. He understands, and he doesn't expect Graves to say a damned thing. "Hell, we both do." He does his best not to wince. His throat hurts like hell, burning, like he's swallowed glass.

"I don't hate you."

"I sure as hell hope not after last night." Twisted Fate grins a little.

Graves snorts. "Don't get cute, asshole. I want to make it clear."

"I know. Like I said, there's a lot going on. You don't gotta say a thing you don't want to." Twisted Fate shrugs. He knows it'll help Graves, and it's an out for himself in a way. Frankly, he's just as guilty for saying so little.

He takes a small sip of water. It helps cool how much his neck hurts, though nothing but time will actually fix that part. Twisted Fate pauses, and he feels Graves gingerly touch his bruising neck. The gesture is close to being tender, and it makes Twisted Fate pause. He doesn't know what to say for a moment. He doesn't hate the contact; quite the opposite really and that's almost worse.

"Next time, I'll use a broom handle to wake you up," he says, his voice still hoarse.

"Yeah, that sounds like that'd go over real good and not at all like I wouldn't sock you in the face," Grave responds flatly. "How bad does it feel?"

"I dunno. You tell me, do I still look pretty?"

Graves removes his hand and gives him a harmless thump in the shoulder. "Can't be that bad if you're still yapping." Twisted Fate offers a small smile in return, but it fades when he hears the outlaw say, "I'm sorry."

"Stop your fussin'. I know you didn't mean for it." Twisted Fate sets the glass aside. "No hard feelings, I promise."

It's a difficult situation. A proper friend would offer to listen to the other concerning these things, wouldn't they? They both suffered after Graves had been thrown into the Locker, but only one of them has actual scars to show for it, and not all of those are visible. Ten years he was in there, and those sort of memories don't just fade away because they made amends. They'll linger awhile yet, and Twisted Fate certainly knows that. 

He'd rather not live in the past, if he can help it, but that's probably impossible for both of them right now.

On Graves' face he sees that the other man is struggling to decide on what to say. It's easier to be angry and bull-headed, Twisted Fate supposes. Something else must feel difficult to put into words.

But he doesn't need to hear it. Graves isn't that subtle. He wears his guilt all over his face with a troubled frown as he thinks.

"If you keep thinkin', you're gonna hurt yourself," Twisted Fate says, his throat finally starting to feel better. He stands up and dusts off his shirt. "We're good, hotshot."

Graves gives him a skeptical look. Twisted Fate just smiles in return, displaying himself as unconcerned and confident.

"Anyway, we got some matters on our plate." The thief pulls on his slacks smoothly as he gets back to dressing himself. "You should see 'bout gettin' us on a boat. I'm gonna do what I do, and put my ear to the ground. See if I can listen to anything interesting."

"So while you're drinking and taking people's money, you got me doin' the legwork. Nice to know that ain't changed."

Twisted Fate grins and claps his hand on Graves' shoulder. "Not too far off from old times, eh?"

It occurs to him too late that maybe those were not the best choice of words. Graves glances at him, and silently Twisted Fate eats his own words. Things are, obviously, very different than they were ten years ago for multiple reasons. The sex last night, obviously, being a big part of that. Neither of them are ready to step forward and talk about it. For a moment, Twisted Fate hesitates and he isn't entirely certain that Graves doesn't notice. He clears his throat and removes his hand.

"No time like the present, partner," Twisted Fate says, doing his best to continue along like they _didn't_ sleep together and he wasn't accidentally strangled earlier. Acting is something he can do well, and now is a good time to utilize that particular skill. It just bothers him that Graves can read him enough to know when something is off.

Fortunately, Graves shrugs and turns away to get dressed. Twisted Fate isn't wrong and they do need to pull themselves together. The sooner they get to Piltover, the sooner they get Graves a proper replacement for Destiny.

For now, Twisted Fate needs to do his best to not dwell on things, either. 

 

-=-=-

 

Some would be amazed by the culture and environment of Ionia. It is a traditionally very beautiful place, mostly serene. The air is fresh, and there's a certain spiritualness to it that can calm the soul. It suits neither Graves nor Twisted Fate, really. The gambler's already missing the mainland, honestly. It's lovely here, but it's intensely boring for him.

The bar's quieter than most places he's been to. Of course, Twisted Fate's not expecting the kind of environment from _Bilgewater_ where the entire place is on the brink of a bar fight, but he actually has to worker a shy harder to convince a player or two to join him. The losers aren't too sore to lose to him, taking it gracefully to the point of downright _boring_ him. It's almost kind of disappointing, but granted Twisted Fate knows they shouldn't risk a big scene right now anyway.

The money's enough for a few nice drinks to go with breakfast, at least.

The games aren't enough to distract him. Usually, a little trickery and extra money in his pocket is enough to satisfy, but he knows why he's distracted. Twisted Fate isn't sure if he's at fault for not saying anything much about last night to Graves, or what it means for him. He can't fault Graves for not saying anything either; the man woke up from a nightmare, probably inspired by the Locker and memories of hating Twisted Fate. That, and he has no reason to hold any expectations with him.

It's fine if it's a one time situation. He can deal with that. Really.

Twisted Fate raises his glass to his lips, then pauses when he hears a familiar instrument play nearby. It tugs at him, and _that_ feeling is not unknown to him.

"Huh," he grunts to himself, then rises from his seat. There's no reason not to investigate, if it's what he thinks it is.

Following the music isn't difficult. The closer he gets, the louder it becomes, and the more intense that feeling is. It leads him to an elegant looking temple, and inside there's a gathering of people.

He isn't wrong with his guess when he sees the musician.

Sona stands before he audience, her fingers dancing along her strange instrument, the etwahl. It comes to her naturally, and a serene expression is on her face as she plays her music. It seems to be for some sort of event. It might be religious, but Twisted Fate sincerely has no idea. Regardless, she's as skilled as ever, and he can appreciate what she can play. Though he can't always understand what Sona means to express, he's always gathered that she's a good, kind soul.

That's fortunate. He could do with a little kindness, in retrospect.

When she's finished and the audience is done giving their praise, he makes sure he's visible enough for her to notice him. Sona smiles kindly and approaches him.

"Sona, always a pleasure." Twisted Fate forms his most charming smile and gently takes her hand in his. "You're lookin' as radiant as always."

The musician runs her fingers over the strings of the etwahl in a way that almost tickles them. She's laughing, in her own way. 

He grins and kisses the back of her hand before letting it go. "I don't suppose you have a bit of time to kill with me, do you? You don't appear to be occupied at the moment."

For a moment, Sona looks thoughtful before she nods and slides an arm around Twisted Fate's, her instrument floating mysteriously nearby. Gently, she pats his arm, smiling at him.

"I'll take that as a yes, cadence." Twisted Fate keeps a slow enough pace as they head down the street, mindful of her skirts. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you know Ionia pretty well. This might shock you, but I'm not in the area that often."

Sona gives him a wry grin.

"Surprise of the year, I know. I was hopin' you wouldn't mind if I picked your brain a bit. Maybe over a drink or two. Gentleman's treat."

It would be rude to go to the same bar as before; it's about as shady as it gets in this place, albeit not by much, and he plans to do better by her than that. Aside from the fact that she is pleasant and desirable company, he does have matters to ask of her and hopefully it'll pay off. Even if it doesn't, it's not as if it's difficult to be around Sona. She's peaceful, and they have no animosity with each other.

For all that Sona cannot speak, she expresses herself easily in other ways. Twisted Fate can read her facial expressions just as well as he does anyone else, and her fingers will occasionally strum over the etwahl to give tone to what she cannot say. 

In any case, this is fortunate; he just needs to do the talking. He's good at being pleasant and making the right social calls with pretty words. 

A chair is pulled out for the lady properly, and Sona seems to appreciate it with a polite nod. Twisted Fate tips his hat before he sits next to her closely.

Sona continues to smile when he buys her a drink. She's amused. He can't tell if flirting with her will go anywhere. Fine if it does, fine if it doesn't.

"Before I get to the subject at hand," Twisted Fate says, sitting closely, "can you tell me how long you're staying in Ionia?"

Her look is ponderous yet playful. Eventually, she holds up four fingers.

"Four days, eh?" Twisted Fate guesses. She nods. "Shame, I think I'm only here for another day more. Suppose we should make the best of our time, shouldn't we?"

Her attention is on him, which is good. Admittedly, Twisted Fate can't tell what she's thinking; Sona has her chin propped on her hand as she looks at him curiously, her lips curled into that smile of hers. He assumes it means she has an interest, though she could simply be polite.

Twisted Fate reaches up, gently tucking some stray hairs behind her ear. It makes her give a silent laugh as she plucks the strings of her instrument again.

It's going well.

Until someone is grabbing him by the ear and yanking him onto his feet painfully. He's about to flick a card out from his sleeve and defend himself from his assailant, but out of the corner of his eye he can see that the culprit is one _furious_ Graves. Twisted Fate's eyes widen slightly and he quickly refrains from doing much other than stumbling after the outlaw to wherever he's getting dragged off to.

Graves pulls him outside and shoves him back. "I've seen you do that a hundred times, T.F.; _Sona?_ Really?"

Twisted Fate winces and rubs his ear. "Well, someone's up in arms. You know I'd leave her be if she told me to scram. What's bitin' at you?"

His words are usually chosen more carefully, to flatter someone or dig under their skin. This time, for as angry as Graves looks, Twisted Fate didn't intend to egg him on. The gunman is grabbing him by the good shoulder and Twisted Fate lets him, stumbling back while Graves shoves him up against the closest wall.

"I wasn't lookin' forward to this conversation," Graves growls.

Oh. Twisted Fate tilts his head down, the brim of his hat covering his eyes. "Yeah?" 

"Last night's changed things, and I don't have a lick of an idea how to deal with that."

"It doesn't have to change a thing if you don't want it to," Twisted Fate says, his voice a fraction softer.

Graves shakes his head. "I didn't think it'd be simple after we made amends in Bilgewater. Sure as hell is a lot less simple now after last night. I spent the last ten years wanting to kill you."

"You know how to flatter a guy as usual, hotshot."

"Shut your smart mouth for five damned seconds." Graves sounds a little less stern, at least. "I'm still sortin' this whole thing out in my head is what I'm sayin'. I don't know how this changes for us, or how the hell I'm supposed to treat you. So I need you to be straight with me."

Twisted Fate can't help himself: "A little late for that."

After giving the thief a thoroughly annoyed look, Graves punches him in the arm. "I'm serious here."

He's afraid of that. Twisted Fate rubs his arm, which may or may not be bruising. "Look, Malcolm, this is only gonna be as complicated as you wanna make it out to be. You wanna leave things as they are and carry on like nothin' happened, I can do that. Matter of fact, I assumed that's where this was headed. Didn't figure you'd get ticked off if I fawned over a pretty face for a spell. But if there was somethin' else you wanted, I'm listening. I promise."

For a moment, Graves looks contemplative. Eventually, he presses his thumb under Twisted Fate's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Twisted Fate's not a fan of it; this conversation's hard enough as it is. There's a pause before Graves' hand lowers and he's touching Twisted Fate's neck, still bruised from earlier in the morning.

"I still need to figure this out," Graves mutters. "If you can keep your hands off of anyone else for awhile, then work with me on this. All right?"

Twisted Fate smiles wryly. "So, if I behave myself and don't woo anyone _besides_ you, we'll fool around until you make up your mind on how serious this is gonna get?"

Graves' frown somehow manages to increase. "You didn't woo _anyone_ much less _me_. Did you have it put all of that in that way?"

"I just wanna be clear," Twisted Fate tells him. "If that's what you want, I'll play by your rules."

The frankly spoken answer makes Graves scoff. "You make this way too damned easy sounding."

"It doesn't have to be complex, and we don't have to do anything that's gonna make you regret it. If this is how you wanna do it, I'm in."

That seems to be satisfactory. Twisted Fate can still feel Graves' callused fingers on his throat, careful about touching him. He wants to tell the other man that he's not that fragile, but he leaves him be with this. The gunman slides his hand up against Twisted Fate's jawline and beard, and Graves gives him a firm kiss. Getting lost into it isn't the smartest choice, but Twisted Fate leans into it anyway, gripping the front of Graves' poncho.

Then he remembers. 

With incredible amounts of regret, Twisted Fate pulls away and curses himself. "I should follow up with Sona. Briefly. Very briefly."

"Hurry the hell up. She deserved better, anyway," Graves says, smirking at him.

"Now _that_ is just rude." True to his word, though, Twisted Fate is turning away to duck back into the building.

As soon as he's back inside, Sona is glancing up towards his way. She doesn't look offended, which is good. If anything, she wears her curious expression, genuinely interested in what's going on. Whether by choice or due to her mute nature, she doesn't pursue with a question. Instead, she waits.

"Pardon my rudeness. It occurs to me that I'm about to be otherwise occupied myself." Twisted Fate flicks out a card; he probably doesn't need be in a hurry, but he finds that he'd much rather not keep Graves waiting. He jots down a few notes onto the back of the card before handing it off to Sona. "This is what I'd meant to ask you earlier. If you could help, I'd be much obliged, cadence. For now, I should go."

Sona's eyes glance over the card for a moment before she looks back up to Twisted Fate. When she smiles, it's calm and understanding. Reaching up, she delicately places her fingers on the man's shoulder, and she pecks him on the cheek. 

"Thank you," Twisted Fate says sincerely.

The musician nods before she glances over Twisted Fate's shoulder. Then, she looks at the cardmaster before making a _shooing_ motion with her hands.

He sees why, with Graves standing by the door. Twisted Fate clears his throat and tips his hat at her. "Ma'am," he mutters before he makes his exit.

 

-=-=-

 

The moment the door closes behind them when they return to the inn, Twisted Fate is being shoved down against the bed with Graves' lips on his own. He barely remembers to take off his hat while he's pressing back into the gunman, opening his mouth and tasting the other man; there's the distinct familiar flavor of smoke and Graves's teeth raking against his lips. His fingers curl around the back of Graves' poncho, clutching him. Going into this deep is the exact opposite of what Twisted Fate should be doing, but he holds on tight regardless and already knows how he feels about this.

Hands are yanking off Twisted Fate's coat, and he squirms out in order to help. It's when Graves' less than graceful fingers are pulling at his vest that the thief jerks his mouth free and he peers at the other man. "Don't you go tearin' that open. That's _Ionian silk_."

"Of course you'd say that," Graves grumbles.

Twisted Fate smirks and starts to unbutton his vest. "No reason to be in a hurry, hotshot."

"Oh for the love of--" Graves gives a frustrated sigh as he helps the other man. "You got plenty of others just like this one."

"You never had an eye for color. This is a maroon, and my other one is a crimson."

The vest is roughly taken off and thrown to the floor as Graves gives him a flat look. "You wanna do this or yap about your clothes, your highness?"

"Well, if you insist." With clever hands, Twisted Fate easily unclasps the belt buckle to his own slacks. "It's not my fault you're practically still wearin' rags."

The banter comes to an abrupt end when he feels Graves cup him roughly between the legs. It makes Twisted Fate jerk into his palm as he grinds it there through his pants, effectively distracting him from any other ways he was possibly thinking of to tease the other man. He squirms against the gunman, kicking off his boots and more compliant in getting undressed now.

"Good to know I got a way to shut your trap now." Graves is grinning, tossing the slacks away, depositing them to the floor.

"Look at who's so proud of himself for gettin' grabby," Twisted Fate muses.

But Graves isn't wrong, and when the gunman is leaning over him and mouthing over Twisted Fate's throat the thief sighs and gets comfortable. He can read into the action, feeling Graves cautiously work along the bruises there. For however much Graves reacts what happened this morning, Twisted Fate doesn't hold a grudge at all. It'd be stupid to; it was an honest accident, and he knows there's a lot for both of them to work out in both their history and right now. Still, it's a surprisingly gentle action from Graves. Twisted Fate is a little flattered he's taking that much consideration for him.

Twisted Fate's shirt is being opened now. His hands reach up and he makes short work of Graves' poncho, but as soon as that's done the larger man is shoving Twisted Fate's arms down against the bed, keeping him from undressing Graves any further.

"This is a little uneven," Twisted Fate points out, now curious.

"That's the idea." Graves spreads his shirt open, leaving his partner otherwise naked. He's leaning down, scraping his teeth over where Twisted Fate's shoulder meets his neck. It sends a pleasant shiver down the swindler's spine and he twitches slightly.

"Not that I'm complaining any," Twisted Fate says, puzzled, "but you just wanting me to lay here and do a whole lotta nothin'?"

"Yep. Shut up already, I'm working here."

It's not often that Twisted Fate is surprised, and even when he is, he can usually pretend that he'd anticipated it anyway. This, not so much, not when Graves is holding him down and sucking at the skin at his collarbone. Twisted Fate swallows and shivers, his hips twitching. He'd expected doing most of the guiding, not unlike last night, at least not until Graves would be in a position of familiarity. Instead, his partner is sucking and biting at his skin, making marks along the way, preferable in comparison to any other type of bruising.

...That must be it, isn't it? Graves is a tough asshole, but he's always been the one more emotionally expressive between the two of them. This is some kind of apology for before. Twisted Fate would be a hypocrite for calling him sentimental, so he cracks a smile to himself, not saying a word about it.

Slowly, Graves works his way down, leaving his marks with bites and a determined mouth. Eventually, his hands slip away from Twisted Fate's arms as he reaches the other man's hips. Twisted Fate peers down, interested to see what Graves will do next. Without any hesitation, there's another bite to his inner thigh, and Graves sucks at the skin there. It earns a groan, and he tries not to squirm too much. When he spreads his legs, he watches Graves pause in front of his erection.

"Now what? You were so confident a second ago-- _nnh!_ " Twisted Fate is quickly cut off when Graves glares at him and rubs the pad of his thumb over the tip.

Graves raises a brow at him. "Don't get smart with me."

Not even a second is spared to let Twisted Fate recompose himself and say something else. Instead, Graves takes him off guard and is lowering his head, not about to be intimidated even if it's something Twisted Fate is _certain_ he's never done before: he's taking the tip of the cock into his mouth, using his hand to stroke rest of him. Graves isn't particularly skilled or well versed in this, but it's still pleasantly warm and wet. That, and the fact that Graves is doing this to him _for_ him is a lot more touching than Twisted Fate could have asked for. 

He tries not to, but Twisted Fate squirms under him from the sensation. Slowly, Graves is removing his mouth, and he gives the head of the dick a gentle squeeze.

"Quit your movin'," Graves complains.

Twisted Fate stares at him. "Well, you're kinda makin' it hard to stay still!"

"For crying out loud." The gunman scowls and grabs onto Twisted Fate's thighs, pulling him up suddenly so that the thief's legs hook over Graves' shoulders. After he's certain the position keeps Twisted Fate there, Graves' mouth goes back down onto the length in front of him.

That causes him to give a startled cry, Twisted Fate's eyes widening slightly. Locked in Graves' hold, Twisted Fate can hardly move now. He has no purchase, and all he can really do is grip the blanket under him and stare as his friend, like his stubborn self, starts to slowly bob his head. He hardly expects Graves to be perfect at this, and the pacing isn't quite what he prefers, but it's still enjoyable. It makes Twisted Fate gasp as he watches, and he trembles in the other man's grip.

He's finishing a shy bit faster than he's used, and he doesn't want to focus on the reasons why. He knows why, and he can't help himself. Twisted Fate gulps down air and groans, trying to find a way to warn Graves, but all he can moan urgently out is, " _Malcolm...!_ "

When he comes, it's unfortunately probably a surprise for Graves. The gunman pauses, looking sour and yet thoughtful about what his mouth's just been filled with. Twisted Fate's legs gently slip back to the bed as his cock slides free from Graves' mouth. Then, like the determined man he is, he just swallows it down.

But not without making a face about it.

Twisted Fate snorts before he just starts laughing, and he turns and presses his forehead against the mattress while he recovers. "Holy hell, you stubborn ass! You didn't have to do that."

Graves just frowns silently.

"Hang on a sec." Shaking his head, Twisted Fate gets up and heads to the liquor cabinet to pour him a glass. Wordlessly, Graves accepts it, taking a big swig of the whiskey that's been offered.

"Son of a bitch, that's not what I expected," Graves finally mutters, then clears his throat. 

"You could've just spit it out, moron." Twisted Fate grins anyway. He won't admit it out loud, but he's a little impressed and a lot flattered that Graves put in that kind of effort for him. 

When the glass is empty, Graves sets it down on the nightstand before he sits on the edge of the bed. Without pausing, Twisted Fate invites himself over, placing himself on Graves' lap and facing him, both knees pressing against the mattress with legs at either side of Graves' hips. He slings his arms loosely over Graves' shoulders and he grins at his friend. 

"So what'll it be, hotshot?" Twisted Fate murmurs. "Want another ride?"

"I thought 'bout that." Graves grabs him by the hips and pulls him a shy closer. "But somethin' else right now. Use your hands."

That's not a terribly uncommon request that Twisted Fate's heard; they're quick and precise, and that can be pretty attractive when someone wants something quick and pleasant with him. Twisted Fate shrugs and starts to rise up from Graves' lap to change position, but the gunman is holding on tight and refusing to let him go anywhere.

"Like this," Graves insists.

That gives Twisted Fate some pause, then he smiles to himself. There are dozens of remarks he could have to this situation, but most of all it's just the kind of sentimentality he should have expected from him and that's not something he's going to tease him about. He reaches down, casually starting to undo the front of Graves' pants.

"You got it, partner." Twisted Fate chuckles to himself when he reaches down, wrapping his fingers loosely around the other man's erection. The smooth contact makes Graves breathe in a little more sharply, but obviously not in pain. This position is a little more odd than he's typically used to, but he manages well enough, gliding his fingertips from base to tip, teasing Graves. In this position, he can hear the way Graves breathes against his ear, and when he tenses.

Twisted Fate turns his head just enough to place his mouth over the base of Graves' throat; he doesn't bite down, but he draws his tongue up until he finds his earlobe to nip. Against the gambler's back he feels Graves' hands curl against his skin, fingers moving up to get tangled into his hair. His hands curl a bit tighter, more firmly stroking Graves now, tweaking the tip gently before he goes back to a regular rhythm.

He can feel Graves shifting under him, breathing harder as he tries to buck into Twisted Fate's hands but it's difficult to do with the riverman sitting on his lap. Against Graves' neck, Twisted Fate chuckles and moves his hands a little more quickly, one squeezing at the base. As skilled as his hands are, he doesn't imagine that this is anything special, but it seems to be enough for his friend. He can feel the arms around him tighten and Graves growling into his ear as he jerks his hips a little harder into his waiting palms, coming messily into his fingers and against his stomach.

The gunman lets out a heavy breath against his shoulder, still holding on. Patiently, Twisted Fate waits in his arms, finding that he doesn't mind at all.

"That what you wanted?" Twisted Fate murmurs.

"Mm." Graves finally removes his arms. Before he lets Twisted Fate stand, he pulls him in for another kiss. It's brief, but the thief quietly enjoys it.

Twisted Fate smiles. "I'll take that as a yes."

 

-=-=-

 

The card with a question he'd left with Sona eventually had been followed up on. Until they get to Piltover, there's no true replacement for Destiny and Ionia is not famous for gunsmiths. Regardless, he'd asked the musician if she'd know anyone who could assist. There are two things she'd sent in return to their inn room: one was a box with a firearm inside -- a javelin gun, which Graves isn't terribly in love with but pleased enough that he has _something_ besides smoke bombs -- and a note she'd left for the thief.

_T.F.,_

_It was a pleasure to spend time with you. I hope this will suffice until you get to your destination._  
_You and Graves are in my thoughts, and I hope you are well._  
_Please beware -- there are people asking about both of you. They look like they're from Bilgewater. I don't know what happened, but be safe._

_Sincerely,_  
_Sona_

Fortunately, according to Graves, they will be leaving in the morning. Whoever is asking for them will be left in the dust. Being wanted men is nothing new to either of them, but whatever remains of Gangplank's followers will hopefully be left behind.

In the middle of the night, Twisted Fate awakens, swallowing hard against his dry throat. He stares up at the ceiling of the inn room he's renting and he lays a moment. Slowly, he breathes in through his nose and out his mouth before his eyes flicker to the Ionian painting on the wall next to him. The familiarizing of his environment isn't enough this time, not in this way. When his eyes trail to where Graves sleeps, he knows he's not the only one struggling. Not when he sees the sweat on Graves' brow and the tense look on his face.

He takes in a deep breath, and Twisted Fate slips out from his covers. This could go in a few different ways, but Twisted Fate tells himself it's worth a shot as he manages to ease himself under the blanket, nudging himself next to Graves and placing his hand on his partner's shoulder.

When Graves wakes suddenly, he recognizes the fury and fear in his eyes, ready to lash out. This time, there are no hands on his throat, threatening to squeeze the air out from him. Instead, Twisted Fate holds his breath and loops his arm around Graves' shoulders. The gunman is tense, but he eases himself into the hold.

No words need to be said. They have a lot to walk away from with the past, and this is plenty of understanding.

Twisted Fate wears his heart on his sleeve a little more. It's a gamble for him, but he is a gambling man after all.


End file.
